CHAPTER 20
When he got assigned to a small town in the foothills of Morocco’s Atlas Mountains, I have to say I was somewhat surprised, but after a moment’s reflection, started to add up all the benefits, for us at least, of getting the chance to see a place we would probably never have picked to go on our own.
Rich was actually bigger than I thought it would be, but that first impression was somewhat deceiving as many of the buildings were abandoned or in ruins. The town was originally settled as part of a Berber ksar, or fortress, at a strategic point on the river between the mountains and the plains, and must have been there, in some form or another, for many hundreds of years at least, but it was lacking the inherent charm of other similarly old cities we had already visited in Morocco, such as the blue walls of Chefchaouen, or the bustling souk of Marrakech.
What it lacked in charm, it made up for in authentic experience. To start off with, the night we arrived, we watched a wedding procession through the narrow streets from Taylor’s rooftop patio, a celebration it would be hard to recreate anywhere else. The next few days we spent wandering the dusty roads of Rich, being shadowed by giggling children and mangy dogs, Taylor introducing us to the natives, pointing out interesting sites, drinking tea, shopping in the market for produce and bread (we avoided the meat on offer, though we had just seen it butchered), and generally being gawked at wherever we went.
One highlight was visiting the school where Taylor taught some English classes- it wasn’t in session due to summer break, but the head teacher showed us around and it was enlightening to see what a kid in Morocco would be presented with on their journey to academic nirvana.
*Note: Photos with a “JR” suffix are credited to J^2
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